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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25915081">Pretty Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/drizellatremaine/pseuds/drizellatremaine'>drizellatremaine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:01:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25915081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/drizellatremaine/pseuds/drizellatremaine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While in Westeros, Sandor Clegane fights with his feelings for the King’s betrothed, the young lady Stark. In the meantime, Sansa’s mind is filled with thoughts of the dangerous Hound.</p><p>“... it wasn’t weird, really, that she had him so frightened. His cold heart hadn’t stood a chance against her fire.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Haunted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you enjoy this (1st) chapter of this San/San story! Please leave a comment if you do :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Red Keep was a dark place during night time. It fit him perfectly. No southern knights strolling around the corridors, glancing at the women while bragging about their latest achievements at the training pit or occasionally at the battlefield, very much aware that the Hound they so carefully avoided, could kill them in his sleep. No King’s men shaking hands while betraying each other by other handshakes, no maids gossiping about the King’s men. Except for some night activities in a few chambers, there were just guards and him. It was the first time during the day that Sandor could relax, because the most bittersweet thing about the dark was that the Little Bird was asleep. </p><p> </p><p>She haunted him. Awake, asleep, it didn’t matter. Her face was everything he saw, her voice everything he heard. Her touch, everything he wanted to feel. It all made him so fucking angry. He had never seen himself as anything close weak - his scars in combination with his living breathing body continuing to prove his strength - yet Sansa had entered his life at full speed, not ever letting him regroup and catch his breath. She hadn’t even given him a chance to pick up his sword, god damn it. And it hadn’t just placed him on the back, it had gotten him frightened. The Hound, scared of a little bird. Sandor snorted at the thought. <em> So green. </em> But it wasn’t weird, really, that she had him so frightened. His cold heart hadn’t stood a chance against her fire.</p><p> </p><p>He was still in his armour, and even though the guards were in theirs as well, they all seemed more or less anxious when they passed him. Sandor always blamed his face, but deep down he knew the scars were not to blame. His eyes - reflecting all his anger - was doing the work together with the roughly built castle that was his body. His fighting skills worked their part too. It was, however, easier to blame his face. The flaming scars, shaped as if he was still burning. But he wasn’t. Not even his anger was burning. It was cold and impaled everyone like an icicle, and it had been present for so long that his inside were just as frozen as the icicle. But Sansa made a spark ignite. It had trouble enlightening further in the cold environment but he could feel it, and the habit of freezing was far more comforting to him than the warmth. So, here he was. Frightened of a bird.</p><p> </p><p>She rounded the corner but stopped a few meters away. She watched him as if she’d never watched another person before. </p><p>“Oh.” She bit her lip, which made his heart skip a beat.</p><p>“What are you doing up, Little Bird?” Sandor spat the words at her, unable to do anything else, because that was how he handled his feelings. She had been terrified of him, but no more. Sansa didn’t even blink, as if used to his anger. She was. </p><p>“Taking a walk, sir.”</p><p>“I’m not a <em> sir</em>, my lady.” Voice thick.</p><p>“Clegane, then.”</p><p>“Don’t play with me.”, he warned while stepping in closer, but still meters away. </p><p>“I dislike calling you a dog, Clegane.” </p><p>“Bloody hell.” He kept himself from saying more. <em> No fucking use with the threats then. </em> The cursing seemed to work, though, since she granted the Hound his wish.</p><p>“Will there ever come a day when you won’t bark at me, dog?”</p><p>“Why? Yes, I’m angry and tired but somebody should be.”</p><p>Sansa walked up to him, now just centimeters away. His heart sped up.</p><p>“I doubt you were born angry. Remember that the other feelings are quite nice?”</p><p>He snorted at her.</p><p>“Have you met my brother? Trust me on this, I was born angry.”</p><p>She laughed, a sadness present in the sweet tone. </p><p>“Escort me to my chambers, will you, Clegane?”</p><p>He nodded in silence but let out a shaky breath as her arm caught his. He wore way too many layers of armour to feel her properly, just as she was wearing way too many layers herself, if he could proclaim his taste, but both the sight and the knowledge had him on the edge. They walked together through the corridors. All Sandor’s energy was used to keep his eyes in front of him and not on her, which turned out to be an almost impossible task. Her red hair swaying as she moved, her pouty lips slightly parted as she breathed. He didn’t know anymore, if he believed in the gods - the old or the new - since they’ve betrayed him so many times. But if they were real, he must have done something really awful and then forgotten about it, because he couldn’t for the life of it remember any such thing that could be so bad that he had to endure the torture that the Little Bird was putting him through. Killing couldn’t be it, right? If no one is sacrificed, no one is safe. </p><p> </p><p>As they approached her chamber door, Sansa released her arm and turned around to face him, but to his surprise, her fingers lingered at his arm. So did her eyes. The shy look of the maid was also determined, no fear in her beautiful tully eyes. Sandor wasn’t sure if it angered or pleased him, but the unclarity sure as hell made him angry. <em> Get your shit together, old man. </em></p><p>“Thank you, Clegane.”, she said in a low voice, eyes still on her fingers, fingers still on his arm.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“Stay in your room.”</p><p>The young woman met his eyes.</p><p>“You do know I am not a prisoner here?”</p><p>“Don’t get all smart with me, <em> my lady. </em> ” He took a step closer and his tone made her take one backwards. “The King does treat you like a prisoner. And <b>you</b> know that he loves to beat his prisoners, don’t you? Now, stay in your room.” The last words came out with such force that one could think the Hound’s been given the crown.</p><p>Sansa narrowed her eyes.</p><p>“And what is it to you? You love the violence.”</p><p>She pissed him off, now. He knew she understood yet she pushed further.</p><p>“Have you entirely missed the fact that I’ve never hit you?” His voice was cold. “That I’ve never accepted my orders to hurt you?” She met his eyes, hers filled with guilt. “Don’t lecture me, Little Bird, just stay in your fucking room.”</p><p>He left her there, almost not able to hold back the feelings swelling up, but stayed around the corner to make sure she did as she’d been told. She did. <em> Women. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Don't Want a Knight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The yawns left her like they’d been trapped in a spinning wheel. Sansa hadn’t slept much at all; all her thoughts lingering on the late night talk with the Hound had kept her awake. She felt awful. He was right, he’d never hurt her. Not even when the King threatened the life of him. Had she thanked him for it? No. Nothing. Not a word, not even a nod. Nothing. He had been a part of her fear in the beginning, and not thanking him at that time, she could forgive herself for. But in the last months, the Hound didn’t scare her. He wasn’t the Hound to her anymore, and she realized that she had taken him saving her, over and over, for granted. The yawns were replaced with guilt and shame. <em> No wonder he growls at me. </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The next day</em>
</p><p>Sandor. He’s Sandor now; he had been for some time. The more time she spent with him, the more she could see past the anger. Sansa had never thought of him as an ugly man - he wasn’t, really, he was more man than anyone she’d ever met - but she had always been frightened of his eyes. Now, she had started to enjoy them. His dark, grey eyes used to stare at her and penetrate her with anger; she figured he tried to scare her, but it wasn’t actual anger behind them. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew she wanted him to keep staring. When he thought she didn’t see, his eyes used to roam over her body - always making her heart speed up and the blush arise. Gods, what would her mother think of her, enjoying the stares of such a brute? </p><p> </p><p>But they were intoxicating. Just like every other day, Sansa found herself longing for him. Where was he? What was he doing? What was <b>she</b> doing? <em> Get a grip, young girl. </em> But she couldn’t. A loud knock interrupted her thoughts.</p><p>“Yes?” She rose from her bed.</p><p>“My lady, the Queen wishes to see you.” His low voice put her right back down. She could listen to him for all eternity, but hearing him outside her door was doing unexplainable things to her, not the least to her lady parts.</p><p>“And if I do not wish to see her?”</p><p>She heard him chuckle. It pleased her.</p><p>“I wouldn’t judge you.” He sounded quite entertained. “However, I have my orders. I would have to come and get you.”</p><p>She didn’t want to see the Queen, and Sandor coming for her didn’t seem to be the worst possible outcome. </p><p>“Please, do come and get me.”</p><p>A silence followed, in its turn followed by a draw of breath. The door opened.</p><p> </p><p>Sandor found her sitting on her bed. He had just closed the door behind him when he realized that she was only in her nightgown. <em> Ah, drag me through hell and back. </em> She seemed to realize at the same moment, blushed slightly but then she gained confidence and stood up.</p><p>“Good morning, Clegane.”</p><p>He was too tense to protest. <em> If she wanted to call him Clegane then what the hell. </em>All he could think about was that he should turn around, but it seemed to be bloody difficult and he had to practically force his body against the wall.</p><p>“Put on some clothes, my lady.”</p><p>“I did not think that would be something a man would say to a woman.”</p><p>He heard her smile behind her words. They made him fucking shaky. When did she start telling coarse jokes? And to him, of all people, who daily threatened her?</p><p>“Please, little bird.” The words came out so weak that one could think <b>he</b> was the joke. They were quiet for a minute. </p><p>“I’ve never heard you say ‘please’.”</p><p>“Don’t fucking make me regret it then.”</p><p>She giggled, and then, gladly, he heard her walk behind the curtain. The second after, all he could think of was that the woman of his dreams stood meters away, undressing. He felt his muscles tense further and to his discontent but not to his surprise, the bulge in his breeches grew. He had to picture King Fucking Joffrey’s face to get it to come down.</p><p>“Let’s go then.”</p><p>He turned around. His mouth opened but he closed it quickly. A black dress wrapped around her beautiful curves, a neckline so deep he again had to fight his inner animal. Her long, ginger hair, hanging down her shoulders. Her lush lips. He seemed to have been staring too long, since those lips turned into a small smile.</p><p>“Are you ready, Clegane?” Her voice was soft but teasing. It made him mad both of lust and of anger. </p><p>“After you, my lady.”, he spit out. </p><p>Sansa walked in his direction, but never turned to walk out the door. Instead, she stopped in front of him. Sandor could feel her breath on him. He needed her to move yet he wanted her to stay.</p><p>“What are you doing?” His words came out just as angry as he wanted them to, just as angry as he felt.</p><p>“I’m watching you.”</p><p>He laughed her straight in the face. </p><p>“Crazy little bird. Why would you do such an unpleasant thing?”</p><p>Her lashes and sweet smile drove <b>him</b> crazy. </p><p>“I don’t find you unpleasant.” </p><p><em> What the fuck was she getting at? </em> He was no fool.</p><p>“Don’t play with me, my lady. I’m no knight from your stories.”</p><p>“I don’t want a knight. And I know now, it <b>is</b> only stories. There’s no kingdome with a fair king, a lovely queen and a happy people. And if there was, I still wouldn’t want a knight.”</p><p>“What do you want then?”, his voice sounding a little too curious. She smiled at him.</p><p>“I’m not sure yet. But what I do know is that I most certainly do not want to meet the Queen.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cersei</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She didn’t have a choice, really, and Sansa found herself on her way to see the Queen. Sandor, who walked in silence by her side, seemed to be deep in thought. She was tall, taller than most women in the castle and the Queen counted, but whenever she was close to him, she felt small. That man was enormous. It should probably frighten her, but to her, his height was part of his manliness. And his manliness, well, it was in turn part of why he attracted her so bad -</span>
  <span> because he did, indeed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever a knight passed them, they watched her, and whenever they did, Sandor gave them a deadly glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everyone who looks at me wants to pull up my skirts, Clegane. It is only your preconceptions talking.” Sansa’s soft voice penetrated his thoughts. He was brought back to life. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The fuck?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have preconceptions. I hate everyone equally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, which pushed him further into the darkness. Was he really that transparent? He didn’t want her to know that he cared about whether a knight wanted her or not. But fuck, he could cut their throat right there and then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to hate </span>
  <b>them</b>
  <span> more.”, she said, knowing he knew exactly who she ment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, my lady. You must mistake me for someone who cares.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This shut her up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything he had always told her, and everything he kept telling her, was the opposite of what his eyes told her. What his body language told her. What his actions told her. It hurt whenever he said such things to her, but at the same time, Sansa figured that he hurt more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” Cersei had a sweet voice, still it terrified the hell out of the little bird. Sandor opened the door for her and then stood waiting for her outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted to see me, my Queen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.” She turned around and smiled one of her false smiles. “Don’t you look lovely today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, your Grace. You, too, look lovely today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cersei came closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such a feminine dress. Would this possibly mean that you’ve bled, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew it - always the beloved topic.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What </span>
  <b>Cersei</b>
  <span> didn’t know, was that Sansa had bled the first time up in the north, in Winterfell, and had lied ever since she had settled in King’s Landing. She knew what it meant to have bled, and Sansa didn’t want to share the bed with the King. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, your Grace. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Queen’s smile widened, but at the same time, it became malicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look no less than a woman, lady Stark. Surely, you must be as smart as one. Do you really expect me to believe that you have grown into those shapes, but haven’t bled?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa didn’t know what to say. How long had she known? She decided to say nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can understand, my little girl. I was frightened, too, when I was to share a bed for the first time. I can most definitely understand how you’re feeling, especially now when the bed that you’ll share is my son’s.” She paused and grabbed her hand. “He can be difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa just looked at her, tears in her Tully eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean no disrespect, your Grace, but he can be more than difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cersei tucked away a hair behind Sansa’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will address the King of this matter, but not tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, your Grace.” Sansa swallowed, rose and walked towards the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you want me to hand him some whores, lady Stark? It will keep him occupied and satisfied for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, my Queen. Thank you, my Queen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knocked on the door and Sandor opened it for her. The second he saw the tears in her eyes, worry became visible in his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You must mistake me for someone who cares.” Not really, right, my dear Sandor?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she do?” His voice demanded an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s more of what I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing more, but offered her his arm. She took it and relaxed against him while they walked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fact that she cried hurt him, but the fact that she was comfortable enough to walk like this with him, made something happen inside him. His heart was on its way up his throat, but he didn't care. All he could think about was her touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what she said about Joffrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, my little bird, do entertain me with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said that ‘he could be difficult’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Well, that was the understatement of the fucking century.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa laughed while more tears came down her cheeks. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I do something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t care.”, she said, but there was no mocking in her voice. She let her head fall against his upper arm. He decided not to answer. He decided to enjoy it. To enjoy her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they stood outside Sansa’s chamber doors, they spoke for the first time in minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Clegane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. Sandor was just about to leave when he saw another tear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to tell me?” She didn’t answer right away and he cursed himself for thinking just for a second that she would tell him anything at all. He was just about to storm off when she said something that surprised him to the outer ends of King’s Landing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please, come in.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Not Leaving You Behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hi and oooop sorry for the delay. I'm in med school and it's busting my ass in periods so &lt;3 Please send some love and or excitement alright bye</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sandor held the door for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was she in trouble? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, but then realized that she was betrothed to Joffrey. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When was she not in trouble?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… “ Sansa started speaking while sitting down among the pillows on her couch. Her hand instructed him to sit next to her, something that made him more nervous than he’d ever admit. He placed himself as far away as possible, but he was too big for the couch and landed just centimeters away from her. He waited for her to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ehm…" She looked quite embarrassed. "So, the reason why I haven’t shared a bed with the King yet, is because he doesn’t know I’ve bled.” She bit her tongue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So she </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>had</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> bled. He had figured; that female body had to be a result of bleeding. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was stunned that she had the balls to tell him this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bled the first time in Winterfell, but my father didn’t know, so therefore Cersei didn’t either.” Sansa looked down at the ground. “I thought, at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sandor could hear himself swallowing. Hard. Of course, Cersei was a woman. Of course, Cersei knew. It had him fucking sick that his little bird would now share a bed with their disgusting King, one who wouldn’t treat her good, one who would most definitely hurt her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just ... You know, scared.” Sandor felt like an awful person - he couldn’t even form a sentence or comfort her, not even now when she wanted to tell him all this. To his relief, at least the closest to relief that he could feel now, she continued:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whores will keep him entertained for a while” - Sandor let out a shaky breath - “but she will tell Joffrey about this, someday soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all dawned on him. He wouldn’t let her be here when that day came. Bloody hell, he’d have her long gone by then. It would probably kill him and if it wouldn’t, the ache of missing her probably would - but she’d be safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sansa interrupted his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life is just one shitty thing after the other, is it not?” A laugh was present behind the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cursing now, are we?” He smiled slightly, too worried to laugh with her. “Sounded like a thing I would say, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad influence.” She smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched her before lowering his voice, suddenly looking very serious. She’d seen him serious uncountable times - he most of the time was, but she saw something else too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get you out”, was all he said. Sansa didn’t fully understand and the rough man was left unanswered. “I’ll get you out”, he repeated before standing up. “Let me think about this - I won’t leave you in the hands of just anyone. I’ll stay and try to hide your department as long as I can.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sansa finally understood, he could tell by her shift of posture, but when he looked into her eyes he didn’t see any relief or happiness as he had figured he would - all he saw was fear. She stood now, too. She watched him with worried eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get this right.” Her voice was hard and penetrated him with more force than she’d ever done. “You’ll have me leave, but won't come with me?” He was quite blown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would it matter to her?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never make it out of the fucking castle if… “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll never make it out alive!” She yelled at him, shocking the hell out of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again, why would it matter to her?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had nothing to say, because she was speaking the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t go if you’re not.” It baffled him; the words and the determination behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little bird, someone needs to stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving you behind to die. Don’t get me wrong, Sandor, you saying this makes me so grateful. But again, I won’t go if you’re not.” He had no words, probably due to the fact that at this moment, he had no thoughts either. Was there even a brain present behind that scared face? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going to die, I’d rather stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated her for how weak she made him right there and then. Was she taunting him? Bloody crap, hell had no ruler because the devil was here, in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it to you, anyway?!” Anger radiated out. “Your life would be so much more pleasant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not any of the unpleasant things in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not lie, little bird.” His voice was so low that it growled at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed to give up on him, there. She shrugged but smiled, almost not visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to leave here, of course. But we’re leaving together, and nothing you will say can change how I feel about that. It's not just about the fact that I don't want you dead.” She walked closer to him, shy in her steps and voice lower next time she spoke. “I like having you around me, Sandor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It punched him in the gut at the same time as it absorbed in his heart. He tried so hard to call her bluff, but all he saw in those eyes were honesty. Before his self restraint abandoned him, he quickly bowed and excused himself to leave. The walk towards the door was the longest distance he had ever walked.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Drop in the Blackwater Bay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No words. </span>
  <b>No words.</b>
  <span> No words for what he did to her mind and body, that rough man who was willing to die for her. Sansa was scared now, more than ever, because before today she had never really dared hoping that he wanted her - why would such a brute desire a young lady like her? But now, the hope had crept in and refused to go. The hope was what caused the fear, because if she dared believing that he wanted her like she wanted him, oh how far she would fall if she was wrong. The fear did what it was supposed to do - it pushed and pushed further until another explanation gave the logic she so badly tried to see; he’d die for her, because did he really have anything else to live for? She knew the man and the man she knew loved the excitement in death and violence, in fighting and blood. She was his next mission, wasn’t she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But hope is a funny thing. The chance of him wanting her back was a drop in the Blackwater Bay, but it was still a chance and hope was desperate to hold on to those odds. It got her on her knees like religion. The stories her mother had read for her had been her childhood, and the dreams of the knights had been part of that childhood. She was a woman now, had been for some time, and the man built like a burning castle occupied the new dreams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*Knock, knock*</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Shae, my lady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in, Shae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you, my lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <b>Sansa</b>
  <span>, to you. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick smirk lingered in the corner of her maiden's mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, why did a certain male come rushing down the stairs looking like he’d been through all the Seven Hells and back?” A raise of eyebrows came with the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shae …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sansa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m … a mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her handmaiden came closer and took her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been a mess for him for quite some time now, haven’t you, honey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you keep a secret from lord Tyrion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shae. Yes or no, it’s really that simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes, of course. Please tell me he’s finally taking you far away from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa smiled a sad smile. It seemed to cause some happiness in Shae. </span>
  <span>“Let’s hope he will. Will you be alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sansa, I’m with Tyrion. Joffrey is someone - no, some</span>
  <b>thing</b>
  <span> else. Run as fast as you can, when you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa intertwined her fingers with Shae’s. They stood there for a while, listening to the wind outside the window. How beautiful it would be, King’s Landing, if we all were dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cersei’s voice penetrated the thick door. “Lady Stark, may I come in?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Once inside, she looked at the two young women with narrow eyes. They enlightened, then, and her fake smile reached the ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maiden, help her into a new dress. The King wants to see his future Queen.” She stepped out and closed the door behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shae made a gagging sound, while Sansa buried her fear in her laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s his favourite colour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green, I think.” Sansa thought back to all the times her King had worn green clothing. “So let’s go with red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shae laughed while moving over to Sansa’s wardrobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something… tight-fitting.” She wanted Sandor to sweep those dark grey eyes all over her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm, lady Spark.” Shae teased. A few moments later, she pulled out a beautiful dress, tight and with a cut such that Sansa’s collarbones would get the attention - and hopefully the attention from her dangerous hound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Sansa entered the King’s chambers, both his and Sandor’s jaws dropped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, Sansa, showing off all that skin for your King.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandor didn’t know more if he burned more from her appearance or from the stupid words comming out of that stupid mouth of that stupid king. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace”, she said and curtsied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m followed by my men to go hunting. I wanted you to see me holding my new bow.” Joffrey picked up the bow and aimed towards Sandor. Sansa’s breath got caught in her throat, but Sandor didn’t react even a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s my posture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good, Your Grace. But you won’t hurt your Kingsguard, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you worried about my well-being, Sansa?”, the King asked mockingly. “I’d survive without him.” She looked at Sandor, who turned his eyes to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful today, isn’t she?” The King got no reply, just grey eyes turning back to him with something dark in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said ‘isn’t she?’, dog!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right as always, Your Grace.”, said Sandor quietly while keeping his eyes focused on the blonde thin boy aiming at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sansa knew that he hadn't had much of a choice of what to speak, but his words still caused butterflies in her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Yes, well, that was all.” Joffrey put the bow on the floor. “I need to get ready.” He turned towards Sandor and gestured at the door. “Escort lady Stark to her chambers. She will have her dinner there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace.” Sandor replied and offered Sansa his arm. She curtsied before her King, and then took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Grace.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked together through the Red Keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worried for me, where you?” Sandor chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I was.” That got him quiet. “He could have shot you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Little Bird.” Sandor’s voice was low and kind. Sansa smiled shyly up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once at her doorstep, Sandor took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will go and let the kitchen know to serve you in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you had dinner yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a full meal of Joffrey’s bullshit, thank you very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed at his painful facial expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if that didn’t set back your appetite way too much, why don’t you ask the kitchen to prepare some for you as well? You’re welcome to join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to have dinner with him?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sandor doubted very much that he was a good company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady, I cannot eat in your chambers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically, I suppose it will be on the balcony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The issue still stands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is an order.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her firm voice did unexplainable things to him. Of course he wanted to spend more time with her. It all just pissed him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ordering me around now, </span>
  <b>my Queen</b>
  <span>?” He almost spat the last words at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you have dinner with me? Yes or no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll obey my orders. I’ll be back from the kitchen soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sansa smirked while she watched him leave down the stony stairs. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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